One Wound, One Life
by sevenfivetwo
Summary: The battle between the Greil Mercenaries and the Daein army brought  many casualties to the Dawn Brigade and their allies, causing much  grief...find out what happens when Leonardo can't find anyone to help poor,  injured Edward. Full summary inside. R&R.


"One Wound, One Life"

By animefan752

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><p><strong>Edit:<strong> I only wanted to change the title, actually. But I fixed those minor errors as well. To be honest, I was aware of the errors the moment I read this after posting it, haha. I know. I utterly failed. Anyway, don't worry, I made no major changes. But I _do _hope I covered all of my mistakes, but if I didn't, then please, _pardonez-moi_.

**Summary:** The battle between the Greil Mercenaries and the Daein army brought many casualties to the heroic Dawn Brigade and their allies, causing grief amongst them and their troops. Leonardo's closest friend, Edward, is an injured victim, but both Laura and Micaiah were already overloaded with crowds of wounded people. So where does that leave poor Edward?

**Disclaimer:** Fire Emblem: Radiant Dawn does not belong to me. It belongs to Nintendo, Intelligent Systems, and company, respectively.

**Setting:** Wintertime at Daein Keep, a little while after the battle between the Greil Mercenaries and the Dawn Brigade. I believe it was Part III, Chapter 7: Rivals Collide, right?

**Warnings:** Bloody descriptions, only mentioned Leonardo/Edward or Edward/Leonardo, hurt and comfort, and seriously serious seriousness.

**Side Note:** I really don't know what color Edward's eyes are, but let's just say they're brown for now, okay?

**A/N:** Well it_ is_ my first ever fic of these two, let alone Fire Emblem altogether. So if they're kind of out-of-character, (which I do not doubt they are, since what goes on is so serious,) I just want to let you know beforehand. Also, this is my first try on any fanfic with excessive blood. It's not necessarily, "blood everywhere, blood everything", but I put a lot of effort into making it as realistic as possible. As in, it's so real, you feel like you're in the actual story! Haha, I amuse myself. Anyway, I'm crazy and I'm just babbling on. Let's get on with the actual fic!

(Facts on "One Wound, One Life" and full A/N are both at the bottom of the page)

Enjoy. :)

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><p>"Edward!"<p>

He knew that they were totally outclassed in that battle. He knew that absolutely no good resolution would result from their fighting, but in the end, what had they done? What had they,―their small team of young brawlers,―done? Well, they didn't draw back, that was for certain. What they really truly _did_ do was completely reckless of them. As naïve and thoughtless as they were, they had thrown themselves in the midst of the battlefield.

"Edward!" He cried, "Wake up, Edward, _please_. At least tell me you're alright."

They weren't alone in the onslaught, of course, but that didn't mean they were entirely safe from harm. And neither was the volunteering mass of Daein soldiers safe either. Actually, the fact of them joining in the melee only added to the eternally increasing number of casualties! Sure, they all fought their absolute hardest, but the Greil Mercenaries were far more experienced. Besides, Daein was not known for winning its wars.

"Oh, Goddess, spare him. Please, I'll do anything. Just―don't let me lose him." He tightened his grip on Edward's exasperated body and trembled in emotion. "He's all I have left―"

"L-Leonardo...?" Came a sickly, tired, and surely wispy voice. Leonardo was immediately shaken out of his grim mourning at that particular call, which belonged to the said brunet myrmidon, Edward. He, the hasty swordsman, was the one who had done something unbelievably irresponsible, which, in the end, only caused him to be limp in Leonardo's arms.

"Oh, Edward. You're awake. I-I...I'm relieved." Leonardo choked on his words morosely, feeling his whole body quiver.

Edward gave him a weak smile in return. "I don't see why you look so worried, but...I-I suppose I'm relieved I'm awake too. I get...the chance to witness you blink...at me in such concern."

Seeing this, the blond archer grimaced shamefully and kept silent.

So the reckless myrmidon has awoken from his fatigued slumber. Albeit, Edward's ill tone of voice didn't match his character at all, considering the fact that he was regularly so excited and happy. And knowing that only confirmed Leonardo's worried suspicions; that Edward wouldn't be okay. So why should he smile? The blond archer nibbled on his bottom lip.

"I...feel numb, Leonardo. And slightly lightheaded." Edward said quietly, his normally bright and vivid eyes drooping. "The...Greil Mercenaries. The battle. I don't quite remember what happened. Did we,―did we win?"

The question was sudden, and caught Leonardo off guard. He even stumbled over his quick steps, but luckily managed to catch himself in time before collapsing onto the ground with poor little Edward.

"You...honestly don't remember?" Leonardo asked Edward beneath his breath as he carried him past the clusters of many injured troops. They all grimly loitered amongst one another in the large, saddening foyer, sulking over their losses and weeping inside.

Edward slowly shook his brunet head, and simply said with a faltering grin, "The last thing I remember was when I...well, I'm not so sure. But I do know I fought against a woman with long indigo hair...she looked really competitive and was very clever with a sword. I-I think she―"

Exhausted, he didn't seem to finish his sentence, as he reached one of his unmoving arms up to his stomach area, gently laying it upon himself but then stopping. There, right on his abdomen, was an unexpectedly soggy fabric. Edward silently drew his hand away from it, and instead, curiously inched below the wet and adhesive material. He was shocked to feel a warm liquid touch the cold skin of his hand. Edward blinked in tired confusion. It was unmistakably warm, but extremely sticky. Something that refused to release its grip; but a liquid of a deep maroon color, the color of―a painful memory instantly shot through Edward once he finally realized just what exactly the wet substance was and how it came to be there.

Blood. And with it, there had been a strip of clothing tied around the bleeding wound. _His_ bleeding wound.

Edward cringed as he pulled his hand away. His hand came away disgusting and dirty, with blood fresh on his fingers. Edward actually had to forcefully pry his fingers away from each other to free them from gluing themselves together. But the stubborn red substance did cling onto each finger, leaving a string of blood to attach one to another.

"I'm bleeding..."

Edward laughed heartlessly, shutting his eyes with heavy lids. In frustration, Leonardo bit his lip and held onto Edward's injured figure with utmost care. Still striding powerfully through herds of despairing soldiers, he peered up to see his destination come nearer. There were spots of red dropping to the floor and stuttering behind his feet as he walked numbly, but Leonardo tried his best to ignore it and kept walking.

"I hadn't meant for this to happen. And I'm sorry, Edward. I'm so sorry." The blond archer said regretfully, pushing through the many bandaged bodies of other victims in urgency. "I tried to ask anyone if they could help, but, really, no one was able to. Laura and every other bishop and priest are all busy to the point where I can't even get near them. Micaiah, Sothe, Tauroneo, Izuka, Almedha, Prince Pelleas―all having an important meeting. As for everyone else, they tended to whatever and whoever they could. There really were too many others. Too many injuries. There was nothing but casualties all around."

"Oh...is that so," Edward trailed off into silence. "You tied this onto me, then? To stop the...bleeding?"

"Yes, I admit it. It was me...I tied it." Leonardo murmured. "I was hoping it would at least stop your blood from...coming out as it did, but it's really not going as planned."

Leonardo, with a bleeding, crippled, and honestly dying myrmidon lying in his own two arms, eventually arrived at Edward's high-class bed room. Edward's things were strewn out and about the fancy room in disorder, as usual, but Leonardo merely heeded the clutter no mind.

"I tried reasoning with the other injured men into letting us cut them in line,―even pleading to them,―but it brought not relief, but disappointment. They were too selfish to care. Even if all they had of an injury was a slice on the finger, they'd tell me to go to the end of the line. They had such rude, disgraceful, unacceptable behavior, those men! Why, the things I would've done to them if I didn't have you in my arms at the time..."

Leonardo quickly and carefully set Edward onto his messily made bed, placing him down in a comfortable lying position, so his weakened body could sink comfortably into the formal mattress. Briefly, Leonardo tossed the other items previously on the bed aside without sparing them another thought, so as to mind absolutely nothing else but the brunet Edward.

The myrmidon smiled lazily and mouthed his thanks. Leonardo reluctantly smiled back as he pulled up the nearest chair and sat in it beside him. Then, exasperated, the blond took a few deep breaths as he glanced at Edward, who was watching him admiringly in feeble appreciation.

"That's okay, Leonardo. I understand." Edward faintly smiled up at the blond archer, who only felt his fiercely pounding heart shrivel up at the sight of such an understanding and reassuring smile. How could Edward do this to him? Doesn't he see that he might as well bleed to death? Doesn't he care?

"Edward...how can you ever be alright with this?" Leonardo whispered. Edward blinked curiously. "You-you know very well that your injury was in spite of me. If I'd only paid more attention to my surroundings in battle, you wouldn't have needed to sacrifice yourself. And-and if only...if only I could go back in time. Then I could fix this."

"Oh, stop it, Leonardo. There's nothing to blame you for. I was simply...helping out a friend in need. I know that if it was me in danger, you'd come to my aid, right?"

"―O-of course.

"Hehe, I knew that, silly. That's what best...friends are for. We'll always have each other's backs."

Edward's wound continued to bleed, gladly soaking up the new, dry material in most rapidity. The once clean bed sheets were instantly stained crimson,―which failed to pass Leonardo's notice of it,―and traveled from Edward's wound and clothes, to the bed sheets and down the fabrics, until it began to drip and splatter across the expensive carpet laid on the wooden floor. Leonardo was aching to do something about it, but he really didn't know what to do. If he replaced the filthy sheets with new ones, only the same thing would happen. And he had already believed that the bleeding would stop once there was pressure applied, or if he tied a cloth around the injury, but the theories didn't work. Edward just kept on bleeding! What was there to do? Leonardo didn't major in healing wounds, nor does he usually nurse people back to health.

"I apologize. I really do. I'm so sorry, Edward. I know you didn't want it to be like this. Well, I mean, I know _I_ didn't want it to be like this. I wish,―I really wish I could do something about it." Leonardo sadly gazed down at Edward's wound.

It was a vital slash of a rueful blade to his abdomen, where an endless amount of blood gushed and flowed. Leonardo wasn't even able to see Edward's skin from all the maroon-colored blood that spread and dripped along his very frame. Just looking at it caused his blond head to spin with an infinite number of thoughts.

"Don't worry about it, you worrywart." Edward wearily grinned at him through tired eyes, hardly breathing. His breaths were short, erratic puffs, but even as handicapped as he was, the enthusiastic myrmidon still managed to keep smiling through it all. "You have no reason to be so...worried."

"No, Edward," Leonardo sadly disagreed and shook his head. "I have every right to be worried. Look at yourself. I can't even stop your bleeding!"

"It doesn't hurt, Leonardo. What's the worst that could ever possibly happen―ugh!" Just as Edward said this, a pain shot up his spine and he bit back his words. There was a sudden burning in the deepest depths of his stomach, of the ugliest pain and despair. "S-so loosen up a little, will you?"

"I can't. Not after this, Edward." Leonardo grits his teeth, not seeming to notice Edward's small and almost insignificant outburst. "I've already-I've already lost my father, my brother, and my colleagues in the Mad King's War and to the Begnion Occupational Army. Not long after them, my mother also leaves me in this world. I can't bear to lose anyone else, and that includes you, Edward. I can't. I won't lose you."

"Leonardo...you're too serious." Edward replied simply, his throat burning. But his wound burned even more so, that fire multiplied by hundreds. It ached, and it wouldn't cease to continuously jab pain at his insides.

He was immensely distressed of the pangs of agony ruthlessly attacking him from seemingly nowhere, then inside and out, but mainly through the gash in his abdomen, as if reliving the moment when the young woman skillfully defeated him in battle.

Back at the time they first met in fierce combat, Edward was shocked at her frighteningly determined demeanor, since she seemed to be so prepared to fight to the death. But instead of that, she left him to live mercifully. Or, so he thought. Maybe she'd meant to aim for his heart, which hid behind his ribs, but she missed by a length or so. Edward sighed in discontent. His wound throbbed at the thought of her.

Instinctively, Edward grabbed at the fabric on his injury, holding it tightly in a fist. There was some throbbing and then more burning,―oh, how Edward hadn't expected this. A little forewarning would have been nice, other than suddenly bubbling up to the surface and catching him by surprise. Well, that woman was good; she knew how to handle a blade.

"Edward, you just randomly fell silent. Are you alright? What's going on? What's the matter?"

The brunet myrmidon silently nodded, not wishing to speak, or rather, not knowing quite what to say. He turned slightly to face his friend, Leonardo, who was staring at him in deep concern. His blue eyes were clouded, hues of sapphire swirling of anxiety and anticipation. Leonardo really was a worrywart. But Edward wouldn't stand for it. What did he ever do to deserve making Leonardo worry? Edward never wished to dampen his heart, or put weight on the blond's shoulders. The guilt consumed him as well as the pain.

"Just...don't worry about it..."

Edward then continued to refrain himself from wrapping up into a ball,―which was what he had hoped to do to hide from everything at fault of his dilemma,―because he knew that would only ultimately worsen the physical suffering from his injury. Instead, he indulged in his misery, hoping that this abrupt pain would subside as he forcefully shut his eyes, curled his toes, and embraced the affliction granted to him by his wound. Edward forced himself to think of survival, and what the future will bring, such as how he'd always planned on living back in Nevassa after the war. There was so much he had yet to accomplish. He had to make it.

"Edward, speak to me. Please, just say something."

"Hnn...I-I'm sorry, Leonardo...I'm just being a burden. But it's okay, though. Nothing's the...matter." Edward said in a slurred speech as he became all clammy, his body sweltering. He couldn't hear Leonardo as well as before. He was too troubled; too much was going on both inside him and around him. And whatever this sudden affliction was had just begun inflicting damage on him. It wouldn't leave him for a while, Edward knew that.

"No. Don't apologize. If anything, I should be the one to apologize, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You're growing paler and paler by the second, but I don't have a clue on what to do." Leonardo hesitates. "Edward, what do I do? Tell me, can't I help?"

"Leonardo..."

"I can't afford to lose you. Not you, Edward. Just, please, promise me you won't disappear. Stay with me."

His heart twisted in sorrowful emotion, Leonardo reached his hand out to Edward's, squeezing its scarily cold texture. Edward drowsily smiled and squeezed back.

"I hadn't meant to...trouble you, Leonardo. I'm sorry. But...don't worry, I'm not...going anywhere."

Even as spent as he was, the brunet still felt stings stab at him like knives and daggers, piercing him much harder than a piercing to the ear. How the pain was just unbearable! But Edward knows he'll have to pull through. For Leonardo's sake. So, he ignores what excruciating pain he feels and buries it all beneath him, hiding his agony in an attempt to reassure the dreadful blond.

"But Edward―"

"It doesn't...hurt as much as you think. So come off it...relax. Now look...you've been so worried, you...have wrinkles over your forehead. Haha, you're...an old man." Insanely sleepy, Edward could barely muster up the energy to speak, let alone make coherent words come from his mouth. He only hoped that what he said wasn't a blunder of illiterate noises. "Just...calm down. You have...nothing to worry about."

The myrmidon's eyes then grew heavy, and the warmth of the room provided him with comfort, despite the undying pain he accepted freely from his wound. And in addition to this, Leonardo's concerned empathy for him further soothed Edward to know that the archer cared so much about him. So trusting his closest friend, the myrmidon peacefully closed his eyes and felt himself lose to sleep.

"Edward? No, Edward, it's okay. It's okay―wait, just, don't leave me, please." Leonardo pleaded. He periodically drew in sharp intakes of breath, fear-stricken.

Leonardo was absolutely mortified. What was happening? Edward had suddenly fallen asleep, whimpering and sweating all of a sudden. He definitely wasn't panting like this before. Was this the result of his wound? Did the pain come just a tad bit late and Edward was paying up for its tardiness?

Leonardo watched the brunet myrmidon subconsciously ball his hands up into fists, clinging and clutching onto the fabrics, then releasing his hold, but then balling them up into fists again. He appeared to be fighting a mental enemy; his face was contorted, shaped into a face being conflicted with pain but trying hard to hide it. Strands of his brown hair stuck to his forehead from sweat and exasperation. Leonardo stared, frozen in disbelief. It was too unreal.

"Edward! Let me help you,―you can't leave me. Edward!"

In grief and in panic, Leonardo frantically looked around him for a pail, a clean piece of fabric, a needle, and a dutiful piece of string that must consist of sheep intestine, as all suture procedures use. There was a small pail hidden behind untidy piles of unused items, and there were some appealing things on Edward's desk.

Leonardo acted quickly. He scavenged everything the fastest he possibly could, finding the oddest of things. It turns out the pail had a small crack on its side, and there really was a needle and some lengths of string on his desk, plus some fabrics and linens that he was sure Pelleas wouldn't mind him using. It was an emergency, after all. Edward was experiencing an urgent event that would require anything of use.

Yet, even so, Leonardo still needed to fetch some water. He knew he could easily find the source of his liquid requirement, but simply knowing its location befuddled him entirely. Because the water he knows of come from rivers, streams, and lakes, and each one of those landmarks reside away from this room, _away from Edward_.

Does that mean he really must stray from the injured myrmidon? Even if he leaves for only the briefest moment of time? Because Leonardo couldn't ever possibly leave Edward alone here, all by himself! What if something dire were to happen in his absence? What then? Well, much to Leonardo's chagrin, there really was no other way, no matter how hard he thinks about it. Edward would suffer from any decision he makes. It made no difference. Leonardo scratched his head in frustration and grabbed the pail by its old handle.

"Wait here, Edward. Don't go dying on me yet."

Leonardo swiftly sprinted out of the unorganized room and dodged the incoming obstacles. Most people in Daein Keep jumped out of the way as they witnessed the blond archer furiously race towards them, but there was the occasional need for Leonardo to move for them. And even as his mud-dried boots prattled noisily along the Daein Keep's stone floor, presenting his panicked presence and mixed emotions among the others around him, the civilians were too ignorant to sense him in such dire hysteria.

There really was no time to lose. Time was of the essence. Leonardo picked up the pace and sprinted out of Daein Keep's two largest front doors, where he saw the castle gardens appear from about the corner. There were neatly trimmed bushes cowering beneath blankets of snow, and there were also nicely groomed flowers failing to perk up from the cold, dry soil. But Leonardo kept running, past the frozen petals and frosted ferns. He ran past the concerned maids, butlers, gardeners, common townsfolk―everyone and everything! Edward was waiting for him, and Leonardo would never waste his time admiring the wintery scenery or socializing with others when it came to an emergency such as this.

Alright, so he knew by heart that there was a stream over yonder, settled on the west side of Daein Keep. He had been there before to fetch water for Laura, who usually volunteered to cook, and the regular chefs of the noble kitchen. So as fast as he could possibly go, Leonardo darted across the arduous dirt and evaded the trees and fences and bushes that took place before him.

Once he had arrived at the stream of pure, clear water, his boots shuffling awkwardly to a stop, he spotted a worn, wooden-woven basket full of dirty rags. They had yet to be cleaned and sat peacefully on the rocks beside the stream. Some of the rags had already been washed, but the majority of them were still filthy and stank of manure. Leonardo didn't bother to think of whose rags they belonged to and grabbed only the clean ones, hoping to use them to clean after Edward's...blood.

Leonardo shuddered at the thought of his friend's poor condition. Edward could so easily disappear like his family, if not carefully handled for his injury. And Leonardo already knew that he couldn't handle the loss of his family alone, so if his best friend,―his closest friend; the one he cares as much about as a member of his deceased relatives,―became the next to fall victim, Leonardo's world might as well fall apart.

Dipping his worn bucket stealthily into the water and pulling it out, a string of liquid came squirting out from the hole he had spotted on it beforehand. As a solution to this, Leonardo simply placed his hand there and quickly made for Edward's room, which sat up in the intimidating castle of Daein.

He ran back the way he came, this time shouting his excusing pardons to everyone in his way. Some grunted unhappily at his behavior, but he couldn't help himself. Edward was on the verge of death!

"Hey, watch it! I'm walking here!" A man spat rudely as Leonardo accidentally shoved him by.

"Ahhh!" A woman cried in fear, her eyes wide. "Why, who―?"

"Oof!" A child exclaimed clumsily, scrambling to regain footing.

Leonardo was too distracted and too focused in returning to Edward's side to care about his manners or the formalities towards others. He simply muttered an apology to them and carried on his way in a frantic hurry, because there was no way he could leave Edward to die, even if that meant ignoring his will to be courteous.

He ran down cold, disheartening alleys, the cool, fresh water sloshing noisily around in its container. He also trudged through the marketplace of loud salespeople gathering up crowds of new customers. Leonardo sprinted through them, and eventually, sprinted through Daein Keep's snowy garden. His heart raced twice as fast as his feet, but he kept going, still. For he knew that the pain he endures now doesn't even come close to the pain Edward must feel.

Soon enough, he'd arrived at Daein Keep's main foyer. Embroidered flags, goose-feather paintings, and display pieces of silver hung sadly around the room's walls. Witnessing them show off Daein's proud emblem only reminded Leonardo of their loss of the battle and brought him nothing but melancholy. And besides, at the time the blond archer lifted Edward back to his room, he's seen these same exquisite rugs, these same picture frames, foreign vases, and polished armory.

The stately arrangements of regal furniture only forever provided him with gloomy thoughts, specifically of Edward and his depressing wound. Leonardo had walked through these same long corridors with a dying Edward in his arms. And remembering the injured myrmidon only made him remember that Edward's wound was because of_ him_―Leonardo! What came to him as a result of stepping back into the castle was a stupid mistake, a wreck of a train leaving a trail of regretful memories.

"This...I can't―oh, Goddess, Edward, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

After he strode to the castle's majestic staircases, he began swiftly climbing upon them and their dull, red, and worn old carpets, which rode comfortably on the steps. Leonardo hugged the pale of water tightly to himself in case his grip had previously loosened and dug his fingers deep into the clean rags as a result of his confused emotions.

"What should I do? How do I atone for my mistakes, my actions...? Dearest Goddess, forgive me. I never meant for him to get hurt..."

By the time Leonardo came about the right floor, he marched right into Edward's room. And as he returned to his ill-fated friend, his eyes widened, for Edward appeared no better than Micaiah after she had used her unconditional skill Sacrifice a countless number of times. Unhealthily dark circles were under his eyes, the pace of his breathing was rather uneven and most sporadic, and the sheets of the bed were mostly dyed red.

"Edward!" Leonardo made a mad dash to the brunet's side, verifying him, and thinking hard about what he should do and how he should proceed to follow through his decision. "I must clean you up first."

Carefully, he placed his recently retrieved utensils down on the ground, beside his chair. He quickly tied a piece of cloth around the bucket to cease its constant squirting from its side. It didn't necessarily stop the water from draining, but enough to keep most of the water from spilling out uselessly.

Then, bravely gathering up his wits, Leonardo stood up and reached a trembling hand out toward Edward's belt. He grabbed onto the latch of his sash and neatly unbuckled it, having some difficulty after he had realized the blood had dried up on it and caused it to stiffen indefinitely.

Leonardo sucked in a breath. The air was heavy with remorse and smelled thickly of blood and regret as he discarded the leather item. It fell onto the floor with a soft thud.

"Edward, hang in there."

Next, he continued stripping the myrmidon of his bloody garments. To clean him, Leonardo would have to dab water around the wound. And because of that, he must remove what stands in his way, so he'll have a better idea of what to do and how to do it.

Edward's second belt came off soon after Leonardo had sparked up some form of determination. He was still nervous; he had never done anything as serious as this before. Maybe once before, when his older brother taught him a few neat survival tricks for battle, and when he had practiced them on a dummy. But this was real. This was so real, that it became almost unreal. How could he ever do this?

Edward suddenly shifted in bed, and Leonardo flinched back in recoil. The myrmidon frowned upon the pain still worsening within himself, quietly groaning in pure agony. He whispered in his sleep, "No, no...ah, it hurts...oh, please...no."

And with that, Edward fell into a deep slumber once again. Leonardo went silent and grit his teeth. Edward suffers more so than he says! Was he hiding the pain? Why?

Leonardo got up and hovered over Edward for the second time, making sure not to move him or bother him out of rest. The worst that could happen was that he'd have to stitch Edward together in his consciousness, but all Leonardo had to do to prevent that was be very cautious of his actions, that's all.

Mindful of his every move, Leonardo made for Edward's two shirts, hoping to save time by stripping him of both at the same time. Slowly and carefully, he lifted Edward. He did his best not to further inflict pain on the myrmidon as Leonardo relinquished it from his body as harmlessly as possible. Edward stirred and moaned in the slightest, but not enough to come awake.

Leonardo sighed in relief at Edward's favorably deep sleep.

Finally, going back to work, Leonardo freed Edward's arms from the sleeves, eventually releasing him of his bloodied shirts. Leonardo casually threw them over his shoulder as he laid Edward softly back onto his bed.

Once Edward was again properly lying down, Leonardo held up the brunet's two shirts,―the collared one still underneath the bright red vest,―and quickly spotted the area of where Edward's wound was first created. A messily ripped hole remained there. Besides that, the shirts were also stained of a deep crimson, similar to every other garment Edward wore. Leonardo noticed that both the color and dampness of the shirts were still very fresh. It was frightening.

Leonardo shook off the intimidating presence of blood on Edward's clothes and briefly tossed them into the pile of his belts and whatnot. He turned back to his friend.

And, boy, was he a charming sight to see.

A rather poorly shaped figure of blood and exhaustion laid there most tiredly, too weary and pained to move. His sickly pale face formed a hurt frown, and his bed was drenched in more of his blood, which soaked up plenty of every surface. Leonardo choked on his breath at how Edward must suffer.

"Good Goddess, it looks so painful. Edward is in such terrible shape that―oh, it must hurt so much." Leonardo mourned to himself as he reluctantly snatched one of his many prepared rags, clinging onto it dearly and dipping its end into the bucket.

Deliberately, Leonardo sat back down in his chair and scooted ever closer to Edward, eyeballing his open stomach. Well, there was certainly a heck of a lot of blood, that's for sure. The only way Leonardo knew just where Edward's injury even was was because of the rag he had tied previously to stop the bleeding, but only hopelessly and to no avail.

Leonardo swallowed his fear with a loud gulp and began dabbing around the wound. He was cautious of his actions, assuring himself not to apply too much pressure and careful not to get too near the lamely bandaged gash. Though unconscious, Edward immediately felt this impetuous stinging and began whining in his sleep.

Meanwhile Leonardo wiped the sweat off of his forehead with the back of his hand, sighing, and licking his lips in concentration. He noticed after a while, that his cloth was slowly being drenched in red as he pressed it upon Edward's dirty skin. Leonardo was relieved, though; a few blotches of soft, peachy skin began to emerge from behind the heavy coverage of blood as he continued to touch lightly around the wound.

Leonardo slowly drew back and dipped the end of his rag into the water again, turning around, but noticing the naturally clean liquid mingle with the color red. The water in his pail became a bloody concentration as the thick, maroon substance danced and swirled around the bucket. Even as Leonardo pulled the dirty rag out, the red hue kept merging with the water, even persistently. The blond archer's heart thumped at the idea of so much blood, _Edward's blood_, but he still pulled on a brave face and continued to clean the myrmidon's wound.

Once the thick, crimson liquid seemed to gradually vanish from Edward's stomach area, there came a wave of relief that washed over Leonardo's nervous wariness. But unfortunately, this relief was quickly replaced by a flood of worry that came crashing afterward. Such as, how should he do this? Why was he doing this? Or most importantly, what _was_ he doing?

Leonardo forcefully shut his eyes, feeling his pounding temples swell and his body sweat bullets. At his widening eyes, did he get back to work, the thought of retiring to his own bed once again pushed back.

"Ashera, please lend me your strength."

Eventually though, much to Leonardo's decreasing patience, it appeared that it was time to unfasten the lame piece of cloth of a bandage on the brunet myrmidon's injury. Leonardo felt his heart punch wildly at his ribcage, since he truly was afraid of what to expect from Edward's scar, after all. Would it be as bad as he first thought? Was it deep enough to reach any vital organs? The questions were endless! Leonardo became so mentally and emotionally confused, he shoved every thought away and simply focused on what he had first planned to do.

_I'm going to stitch you back together, Edward. But promise me you'll live. Live with me._

Leonardo didn't consider any of the many risks that might result from this, but instead dove in without thinking; maybe even as thoughtless and reckless as the wounded myrmidon himself! Leonardo took deep breaths, shoving his long hair back with a clammy hand and assessing his next prepared action: simply strip Edward of the clothed bandage, possibly clean up a bit if he bleeds, then stitch him up! That shouldn't be too hard, right? Leonardo _did_ learn how to at least stitch someone, with the help of his deceased older brother. He knew that he must never panic, but keep a straight face and simply connect the two, split bodily surfaces back together with the needle and thread.

Leonardo, shaking from discourage, repeatedly inhaled and exhaled, gulping his nervous breaths down. His hands lingered awkwardly over the thick cloth wrapped around Edward's cut, debating over whether or not to untie it in a specific way; quickly or slowly, neatly or messily, on the left or on the right? Why, that didn't even make any sense! Leonardo groaned aloud and took the fabric into his hands.

With a few, light tugs and a couple of unfortunate, harsh jerking, the cloth's knotted tie came undone. Leonardo preoccupied himself by smoothly sliding the previous bandage out from underneath Edward, still cautious and careful about how the myrmidon might react―awaken, or hopefully, stay asleep. But he knew everyone had to wake up at one point, as much as he didn't want Edward to.

Leonardo timidly peered over at Edward after tossing the bandage off to the side, along with the rest of his blood-stained clothes. The red gash, producing blood as of now, stretched across Edward's stomach. One end of the uncomfortable slice began at his waist, while the other end cut a little deeper and a little higher, so that it shaped into a diagonal slash. But luckily enough, the actual cut wasn't too serious; it didn't open too widely as to damage his internal organs, and that also meant no open-injury-related diseases could have infected him. The width was about two centimeters long, at most, so Leonardo was relieved the slice didn't cut in too deep.

Apprehensively, Leonardo snatched the needle and lengths of thread up from where he'd put them beforehand, sitting up with a firm line on his chapped lips. He made sure to have another piece of fabric with a moderately wet end at his ready, just in case. Then, as a way to maybe calm himself, Leonardo took a deep breath. He tightened his grip on the silver needle and the thin piece of string, and attempted to slip the thread into the needle's microscopic eye. It was a helpless deed Leonardo didn't find easy, since his own trembling hands couldn't seem to stay still and therefore kept the thread from obediently sliding in.

But eventually, it had gone in. Though, if it weren't for Leonardo's constant, worried thinking, it wouldn't have taken so long in the first place. Leonardo shook the thought out of his head and knotted the thread's end from losing its place in the tiny eye.

So with one final blink to reality, Leonardo oh-so-very carefully pinched at the edge of Edward's paling skin. His flesh was vulnerably to the touch, soft and squishy. At Leonardo's undesired pinch, the brunet myrmidon was instantly in a state of unbearable pain, if he wasn't already, his whole, aching body tensing up. Leonardo attempted to ignore Edward and his refrained groans as he neared the needle's shining, pointed end to his sweltering wound.

"You can do this. It's not so bad."

Tired, anxious, and dying of this emotional discomfort for his fatally injured friend and himself, Leonardo breathed shakily. Suspense enveloped his quivering build as well as concerned anticipation. Though, watching Edward's weak frame still lift and fall as he cycled air in those lungs,―but only in short puffs and not as regular and timely as his own,―did Leonardo realize: _life still pushed in those veins_. That now wasn't the time to be a frozen statue. That he shouldn't stare in horror at Edward's bloody wound shimmer brightly in vivid red.

But what did it have to take to poke fearlessly through the skin if sheer courage was lost? How could anyone ever accomplish this feat?

Yet, by heart, Leonardo knew that if he didn't do anything soon, Edward would surely meet his deathly fate. So it shouldn't matter whether or not the myrmidon got hurt in the excruciating process, should it? This was all for Edward's benefit anyway! This would save his life!

Leonardo braced himself and hoped to everyone he knew for Edward to be prepared as well, the tormenting needle teasing at Edward's soft, submissive skin, which protected whatever was left of his healing wound.

_Here it goes...please, forgive me, Edward._

"Aaagggghhh!" Edward let out an agonized cry as Leonardo finally pierced through that frightened flesh, the same, pointy end of that especially sharp needle reappearing on the other side of Edward's pitifully unnerved skin. It glowered arrogantly at Leonardo with its crimson coat glistening on the tip.

The blond tried not to be too bothered by the lengthy, prickly thread pulled in strain through Edward's sore skin, as if the myrmidon's body was a plain piece of fabric for a woman's simple-knit needlework. It was an unnatural sight, the incredulous seams of startled flesh and thick, griping string. And on a human, no less,―on Edward.

Extremely afraid and guilty of what he had just done, Leonardo dared not steal a glance at Edward's only wincing face and sighed in utter exhaustion.

_Well, I've already begun this dragging, nauseating task, so I might as well finish it. But, hurry, though, I must._

Leonardo didn't think to hesitate, ignoring every nagging thought from the back of his head and continuing the suture procedure. However, Edward's morbid injury compelled his inner conscience and mortification to burst from whatever sense remained in his baffled mind. The thread strung through human _skin_, as if this was just a faded out nightmare of his, forever lingering to agitate.

This didn't stop him, though. Leonardo began this quest with imperative doubts, yes, but even so, the blond archer made no attempts to surrender to Death's dark antics. Edward's life depended on the actions Leonardo takes upon himself to do, which consisted of the multiple stitching of Edward's bleeding slit. So basically, if he valued the myrmidon's life, he would do this without a second thought.

Leonardo courageously followed suit to his previous poking with the taunting needle, once again piercing through overwrought flesh a good number of times. Fortunately for the both of them, these many stitches connected one half of the cut back together as it was before Edward had first obtained the slash. But unfortunately, those same, newly applied stitches caused the skin surrounding them to bloat up in irritation. At this, the brunet went on with his anguished cries, his stressed figure pulled into uneasy twinges of chaos brewing from his pain.

Every one of Edward's distressed sobs stabbed at Leonardo's grieved heart, making him realize the honest pain he caused the brunet through this impossible operation. When Edward first screeched, he knew it was the loudest of each cry he expressed because Leonardo performed the first throbbing puncture on him at the time. He also knew that as soon as he executed more and more penetrations through the brunet's skin, causing the chastising string to shape into a familiar zig-zag on the wound, Edward only seemed to gradually whimper, sob, and wail louder in pain. And because of that, Edward never ceased to provide Leonardo with his necessary guilt, constantly weeping.

―_Wait. No, no, there's no such thing as _surrender_ here. Don't think of it. Edward may be in pain, but this is all for him. This is for his life._

Leonardo strained himself to continue his task, softly soaking up the blood with a swift dab of his prepared rag, and then carefully sewing through flesh once again. The needle still wished to torment him and Edward, pointed sharply. So as it finally pushed through the myrmidon's pale, clammy, and swelled up skin for perhaps the twentieth time, Leonardo braced himself for another expected cry from poor Edward.

Only to be shocked to hear him silent.

Bewildered and confused at Edward's unexpected silence, the blond archer quickly finished a few more interlaced stitches, each fleshy side joining and linking themselves together by attaching the thread to skin and pulling each surface close. The healing cut was almost finished with its stitches, connecting abnormally, but connected nonetheless.

Yet, Leonardo didn't feel the least bit relieved. Mainly because the myrmidon said nothing, which obviously bothered him. The reason for that is because Edward's silence could mean many things, that all Leonardo could think about was that Edward had to say _something_, not nothing. He had to at least _cry_, not silence himself. Why was he suddenly so quiet?

Thoughts of death teased Leonardo's subconscious mind, planting ideas of murder and faults all at once. As if Edward died and Leonardo was guilty of it―which he was. But that couldn't mean Edward died, could it? Or, what if this was all a mistake, how would he know he was doing the right thing? What if in the end, this was all just in vain? Edward would die then, surely.

Leonardo, just previously preventing himself from taking even the smallest glimpse at the myrmidon, frantically looked in his direction.

There, his brilliant, blue eyes met with gentle, brown ones. Engaging with those warm and comfortably chocolate eyes, they shimmered with freshly blinked tears and stared deeply at Leonardo with the most purpose one's pair of eyes could ever obtain.

"Leonardo..." Came out of his dried lips in a crumbled whisper, streams of salty water trailing down his soft cheeks.

It was simple. Edward was no longer asleep. Edward had awakened.

_Edward was awake._

Said blond archer immediately felt apprehension, realization, and guilt engulf him whole at Edward's broken voice, blinking back the contrite tears that threatened to spill from his own blue eyes. Thoughtfully, he stared at his friend in deep concern as the brunet pitifully choked on a sob, nibbling on his swollen bottom lip.

"Edward...you're awake." Leonardo attempted to clear his throat, failing somewhat, but continuing still with a voice not any better than Edward's. "You...are you okay? Are you hurt? Can you still hold up? Because I―"

"Leonardo..." He whispered again, the blond's name seeming to be the only thing he was able to say. Edward then continued to blink swiftly, rivulets of tears clinging to his dark eyelashes. He couldn't help one from escaping though, sliding down his cheek just as Leonardo realized what ailed the brunet's speech.

Despairingly, the blond archer shook his golden head and said in a depressed voice, "Edward, please...don't. Don't tell me you're holding your own tears back."

With a shocked tilt of his brown head, Edward gasped dumbly in response to Leonardo's claim. He quickly tried his best to cover up for his emotional vulnerability by looking everywhere,―to the wall, to the doorway, but mainly to the ceiling, since it was so settled and prepared above him. His long, dark eyelashes fluttered rapidly as he anxiously pursed his paled lips. Yet, despite Edward's sad attempts, Leonardo had a sense that what he said was right. The pain was too unbearable for the brunet to even hide. And, knowing this, it absolutely crushed Leonardo's spirits.

"Oh Goddess, Edward, no apology can ever make up for this. I'm trying to help, _anything_ to help, but all I end up actually doing is hurt you." Leonardo let out a long, heavy sigh. "I just needed to do something. I don't know, the stitches, I just―"

An affectionate touch of a friendly hand on his stopped his stuttering sentences short. Leonardo peered up from the dark depths of his depressed thinking, making eye contact with Edward's warm, brown irises. They still filled Leonardo with remorse, the way they watched him innocently, a glistening gather of tears resting on his pink eyelids. Though he knew Edward only meant to comfort him, as not to ruin his mood any more than it already was ruined, the archer couldn't help himself. Edward was _crying_. And as a result of the limitless pain Leonardo caused him, Edward couldn't speak either!

The more Leonardo thought about it, the more he realized,―this was all his fault. There was just no mistaking it. So, in frustration, Leonardo dragged his free hand slowly over Edward's kind, sweet one, tightening his already firm grip on it.

Edward didn't seem to mind, smiling tenderly. "Don't blame yourself, Leonardo...or I'll never forgive myself for distressing you."

His shattered voice was raspy and unnaturally weak, scampering its quiet way to audibility. Yet, the myrmidon's tear-stained, scarlet red, and pained face still managed to sustain that cheeky smile of his. The sight of those rosy lips perking up into a cheerful curl―despite the bleeding gash stitched pitifully together on his abdomen,―made Leonardo insanely uneasy, the uncomfortable feeling of imaginary spears protruding through his aching chest.

Leonardo couldn't find the words. Though really, what was there to say? Edward was saying everything. He seemed to be always prepared to soothe Leonardo's worrying, somehow knowing exactly which reassuring word to use at the right time, when it should really be the other way around. The wounded victim shouldn't be comforting the doctor, should they?

_The answer to that is no!_ Leonardo flared angrily at his own in-capabilities.

"Well, don't make that face..."

Taken aback at these unexpected words, Leonardo snapped up with a questioning look. "Huh?"

"You might not realize it...but you're frowning, Leonardo. And it's the bad kind of frowning...please, don't frown. I'm here, aren't I? What's there to frown about?" The pleasant feeling of Edward's soft hand hidden beneath Leonardo's own two hands, that gracious warmth heating them up to even the tips of his fingers, appeased Leonardo to the point that he almost believed everything _was_ fine. But it wasn't. "And if you think you must finish the job, you may finish it...it's not like I ever needed to grant you my permission or anything, anyway. I don't...mind it."

"Edward, I-I only wished for your safety, your life." Leonardo gulped an anxious lump down his clogged throat. Edward nodded with a sympathetic smile. "The pain, I know, is beyond what you can handle. But I assure you, I'll try my absolute hardest to ease the pain to something a little more bearable. I mean, if I could ever dispose of the pain, I would. Most definitely. But I'm only doing what I believe is best. I-I'm trying."

"I trust your judgment, Leonardo...you always were the trustworthy one between us...ever since the beginning. There's no reason why I shouldn't believe you." Edward replied with a small grin. "Besides, you exaggerate over the pain. It may harm me, pierce me, sting me, whatever the case, but...as long as you're here, the pain deals no damage."

_Lies. Lies, Edward. The only thing I do is hurt you._

"Is that so," Leonardo forced the best smile he could form upon his face, finding it difficult as Edward continued to wearily grin at him. "I...really do appreciate the thought."

"Okay, then." Edward said, his eyes bright. And, without Leonardo's consent, the brunet's warm hand silently parted from his. "Go ahead, finish what you started...I'll try to be quiet this time."

Leonardo's hand instantly became cold by itself, alone and lacking the optimistic warmth Edward had always provided him with by being by his side.

Yet, Leonardo tried to smile back at him, fighting back the contradictory thoughts flooding his distressed mind._ Contradictory_ because Edward was offering to attempt to stop screaming at the pain Leonardo caused him, as if that was what troubled him in the first place. But Edward was looking at it all wrong! Leonardo didn't care about whether or not he was loud. What he really truly cared about was how much he hurt the injured myrmidon. Whenever Edward cries out in utter misery, does Leonardo guess how it must anguish the poor brunet, supposing his unskillful stitching to be the reason for Edward's unresolved pain.

"Mm-hm." The archer couldn't look at the ever enthusiastic Edward. He didn't dare steal even the slightest glance at him, and hesitantly took the grotesque needle into his hand once again.

Grimly turning back to the bloody wound he absolutely abhorred, Leonardo estimated the remaining number of stitches required. He counted around twenty-five stitches in all that he's already sewn, thinking that maybe ten more would finish it. The numbers may seem a bit large, but that was only because his dutiful stitches were tiny and didn't exceed any more than an inch's length.

"...Don't be afraid now, Leo." Edward perked up in quiet encouragement.

"I'm not afraid...I won't be. I cannot be."

Leonardo, only slightly experienced in a way he wished he didn't need to be, quickly got back in position. He didn't bother worrying over the pointy needle's sharp tormenting, and spun it steadily through Edward's sickly flesh. Then did he follow through doing exactly that, knitting together skin to skin. Edward grunted behind clenched teeth at this, as obliviously accusing as that is to Leonardo, with the brunet myrmidon still whimpering helplessly. The blond's sense of mind instantly became overly contrite, his focus struck by guilt.

And as a result of his anxious concern, the swift movement of Leonardo's hands shifted from reliably stable to shaky, trembling in fear of suspense, pain, and devastating events he doesn't even know of. But in comparison to before, something was definitely different about his reluctance.

_Edward was awake._

Which means the myrmidon could especially feel the throbbing stings and griping twinges of agony―or, in other words, Edward could feel Leonardo's utmost effort in stitching his bloody injury―even more so. Yet, no matter how severely guilty he felt, the blond still probed through Edward's flesh. As gently as he ever possibly could, Leonardo sewed, with the prickly needle poking, piercing, and sewing in and out of the brunet's sore body.

Skin pulled towards skin in the most unnatural fashion, the length of tough string cleaving and linking the two bodily surfaces together into zig-zag-shaped stitches.

As the needle and thread of metallic strength continued to weave through Edward's flesh in neatly patterned seams, the blond archer noticed something: _Edward's skin didn't react to the stitches well_. Swelling and occasionally tensing up, they flushed into dark shades of red and even bled a little.

"It's almost done. Just, please, bear with me for a little while longer." Leonardo whispered almost to himself as he finally neared the other end of that darn wound, which had long since bloated up in an unhealthy color of crimson. He guessed that it must have been from its sad lack of anesthetics, or something to numb the pain.

Still, at Leonardo's courageous acts, the needle continued to glare at his audacious persistence. Even as the blond threaded its arrogant way to its one, last stitch, the needle gleamed Edward's blood at him in a way that scorned at him in disdain. It gradually wiggled its dulling end through one bodily surface to the final other, connecting his wound even if that connection was sloppy.

With good intentions in mind, Leonardo swiftly ended the horrid torture of that stitching procedure by tying the remains of the thread into a sturdy knot. He snatched a tiny knife usually hidden beneath his many belts and unsheathed it. Then, while keeping the knife's sharp end away from Edward, he neatly cut the stiff, unused end of the string off. The tie obediently stayed by the last stitch's side, drawing Edward's flesh together.

Leonardo quickly put the knife away and looked up at Edward's unusually feeble yet happily appreciative face. Full of innocent hope, the brunet smiled.

An immediate feeling of appeasement settled in the deepest pits of Leonardo's stomach as that horrendous course of medically urgent action seemed to―at long last,―_end_, with Edward looking at him in meaningful gratitude. So, almost confidently, he looked at that dreaded wound, linked together after what seemed like an eternity.

Overall, the patterned threading of Edward's cut was uneven, but that couldn't be helped. Although, for a novice, Leonardo was excessively neat in his loyal work,―truly something of natural skill and ability. Plus, that meant his constant worrying hadn't been in vain, with Edward on his way to eventual recovery.

"There it is. The last stitch." The archer breathed in disbelief.

Well, it _did_ seem unreal, everything that's just happened. Because really, how could he have ever accomplished the stitching of Edward's wound? He's never done anything even remotely surgical before in his whole entire life! And now, performing the operation on one of his most dearest friends? It's simply outrageous!

With this, Edward pitifully croaked at his words, the blond archer immediately turning to face him. "Thank you, Leonardo. Now...I'll know forever...it's because of you I still live."

"Edward..."

Though thoroughly exhausted, Edward blinked slowly at his best friend, a euphoric smile inching up his now glowing face. It did Leonardo's heart a load of good to witness Edward's well-being in a state of such relieved mirth, that any emotional storm that had wrecked Leonardo's previous concentration vanished. He even felt his own body growing to a kind of comfortable temperature, a delightfully snug heat blanketing him.

"It's true." Edward said. "If it weren't for you...I might not even...be here."

"And so I'm relieved. If anything ever happened to you, Edward, if I couldn't have saved you in time...I...I don't know what I would've done." Leonardo stated sincerely, staring deeply into those warm, brown eyes. They were soft to look at, just as soft as his hand.

"Leonardo, I...don't deserve you. You're much too caring...and I...I do nothing but...cause you grief." Edward hiccuped, a fresh bundle of tears collecting at his eyelids. They glistened wistfully and Leonardo swallowed.

"Edward, don't you see? It's...finally, _finally_ done. You shouldn't be making such faces." Leonardo scooted closer to Edward, sympathetically reaching his hand out to the brunet's. At once, he felt that same, sweet tenderness of his skin, his friendliness, grasping onto his own hand.

"I am glad it's finished, Leo...and if I have an unhappy face, know that I'm happy." Edward said between light and bouncy breaths, his usual enthusiasm radiating. Already, his once sickly face began to regain its naturally pink cheeks, his gentle skin flawless. Though tears still streamed down those fair cheeks, Leonardo knew these tears were tears of joy and satisfaction. "There...are no words to describe how I feel...now that I know you saved my life. Everything's just so...and I..."

Witnessing those small rivers of pure salt water run down Edward's face caused Leonardo's emotions to explode in bursts of refreshed benevolence. His grip on Edward's hand tightened in concerned affection. "Edward, I feel the same way. I really am speechless...that even I don't know what to say...but there is one thing."

Edward, the certain picture of merry wellness and lighthearted thinking, nodded knowingly. His chestnut brown locks bounced along as he gently and gladly moved his head, tresses of brunet hair framing his bright face.

"I have a request for you." Leonardo stated. The expression Edward had on shifted from kind sympathy to general curiosity, his cheeks a healthy pink but streaked with tears.

"W-what is it?"

"I know that you can now, so promise me this. Please." Leonardo asked carefully, hesitating to witness Edward's reply to this unexpected favor.

The brunet simply blinked at him.

"Promise me, Edward, you'll never do anything reckless ever again. And promise me, you won't die. Forever live with me. Just don't do this...don't get hurt. I care too much to wait and do nothing." Came pouring out of the blond archer's mouth in honest truth, the heartfelt words forming without him even thinking about it.

"Leonardo...I don't...know what to say." He giggled, heaving and gasping helplessly as he gulped at the cries occasionally flying out of his mouth. "I can't promise you anything, but...I will try! I'm just...so happy right now, I can't...speak. Let me at least relish in this moment. Because I...I don't ever want to forget this―no, I don't think I'll ever forget. I'll always remember. How could I forget...how pathetically _worried _you looked?"

Edward laughed meekly, his pleasant chuckles ringing in the archer's ears.

Leonardo smiled ruefully. "Edward..."

Just the sight of that silly myrmidon's expression, smiling most genuinely despite the trails of tears marking lines upon his face and the scorching pain that must develop in the dark depths of his weakly sewn wound, filled Leonardo to the brim with a deep, strong feeling. He felt relatively closer to dearest Edward, a feeling of social attachment and the need to be by his side at all times. A feeling of protection and a feeling of a tight bond swallowed him whole, that same deep, strong feeling providing him with zealous power.

"Edward, promise to...stay with me."

So, with that dying need, Leonardo released Edward's warm hand and gathered the myrmidon's frail and tender body into his own caring arms.

The brunet, realizing how suddenly serious his friend was being, made no attempts to struggle. Instead, he graciously threw his limp arms around this cordial Leonardo in return. Though Edward's devoted hold around the blond's shoulders may have been weak, deep in that loving hug, Leonardo could feel the innocent and virtuous fondness of his silent embrace.

"Leonardo...I'll stay with you for as long as I live."

The archer nuzzled his face deep into Edward's mop of wild, unruly, but sweet-scented hair, breathing in the myrmidon's admirable fragrance and his entire essence as if Edward could just disappear if he simply looked away―not that Leonardo would let him slip from his fingers.

"Good. 'Cause I won't let you leave even if you wanted to."

Edward chuckled heartily, his friendly voice muffled behind Leonardo's broad shoulder. "I take your word for it.

He would never ever let Edward go. Not now, not ever. After what he's already lost, he will not lose Edward.

Leonardo let out a breath of relief, Edward joyfully laughing. "You're not getting away this time, Edward."

And so, as a dutiful resolution, this feeling comes to be the fervent determination he's been searching for, the strong will to persevere and strive for life. The power to protect everyone he loves. The wisdom to guide them from straying from the right path. And the love to provide him with the inspiration and energy for it all.

And he had Edward to thank.

* * *

><p><em>The End.<em>

* * *

><p>Okay, first of all, if you really did read this fic from start to finish, kudos to you. This took <em>forever<em> to write and might (or might not, I guess,) take _forever_ to read, so I'm proud!

Second of all, this has a bad resolution, I know. But I was desperate to finish this stupid piece, so I wrote the ending in five minutes at most! OTL Let's just pretend it's good enough, okay?

**Facts on "One Wound, One Life":** Yes, I _have_ looked the facts up. Because when I write, I like to at least try to be in detail and make some sense.

So anyway, what Leonardo was doing was a surgical suture. Surgical sutures are medical procedures used to stitch two bodily surfaces together. If anyone's ever needed stitches before, that's what a suture is! And by the way, the sheep-intestine-string thing is true too. Way back when, they used sheep intestines to make the thread. Sure, it's gross, but it's absorbable. So if you're stitched up with sheep-intestine-string, the string will eventually go away.

And just in case the question ever comes up: no, I've never had stitches. They look extremely painful, (even though the doctors probably use anesthetics,) not to mention how disturbing they appear. I don't know, I guess I can't really say, since I've never really experienced it myself. Which is kind of why I researched surgical sutures, hehe.

**A/N:** Whoo-hoo, my first ever Fire Emblem fic, ever! I'm glad I've actually managed to publish it! To tell you all the truth, I hadn't meant this fic to be so serious. I was actually inspired to write something more comical because of Edward when he retreats and says, "Ugh...! My ribs...! Sorry, Micaiah, but I'm falling back for now!" (Or something along the lines.) And so I was hoping to come up with something humorous and lighthearted since that's what fits Edward's character the best. Meanwhile Leonardo...well, either way, Leonardo acts accordingly. I feel like he can make it work, no matter what I write. I like him and his down-to-earth lifestyle. And I like Edward and his cheerful but insanely reckless personality. They're exact opposites, but they're best friends, anyway. I guess opposites do attract, huh? Haha! :)

But anyway, I'd really appreciate it if you'll take the time to write a review. I want to know what you think. And if you do consider writing me one, I thank you. I'm sure every writer and author love to hear from their readers. I know I do. It's proof that our hard work was not in vain. So, please review! I'll accept any constructive criticism, but I won't accept any "I-hate-you-and-your-writing-so-I'll-give-you-a-bad-review" flames, unless you have a perfectly valid reason. That would be much appreciated, thank you.

Alright! I love you all for viewing and I really hope you liked it! (But I love the people who review even more! :D)


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